Chapter 5
Evelyne ran until Duskwood Manor was a distant memory, her legs carrying her far beyond where reason might have stopped her.
The sun was gentle against her flushed skin, but her mind was ablaze with thoughts.
Her mother’s callous ignorance was unbearable.
Even Aurelia had looked baffled at her words.
How could she care so little for Cillian’s distress, focusing only on matchmaking Evelyne to Ivan Bavrick?
The very thought of Bavrick made Evelyne ill.
No amount of wealth could make her endure that man’s touch.
She inhaled deeply, keeping her pace steady and swift, each breath sharp against the ache growing in her chest. The image of Cillian’s strained, terrified face burned in her mind.
He must feel so frightened, so utterly alone.
But why hadn’t he confided in her about the episodes returning?
She’d noticed his unease in the library yesterday—how his golden eyes had dulled with fear—but she’d been too caught up in her mother and sister’s incessant meddling to act on it.
She understood why he stayed silent, though; she always understood him.
Later, she would go to his room, and if words failed, she’d sit with him in quiet solidarity. He needed to know he wasn’t alone, and she needed him to know she was there.
The familiar woods eventually gave way to the edges of the Stonebridge estate. She hadn’t planned to come this far, but her feet had a mind of their own. Lost in thought, she nearly stumbled over a gnarled branch, but recovered quickly, her breath ragged as she tried to steady herself.
Ahead, Alaric stood on the estate grounds, fencing with his trainer. His lean, muscular frame moved with precision, his dark hair sweaty. She inwardly cursed her luck for ending up here, disheveled and out of breath, but his boyish grin remained firmly in place as he spotted her.
“Lady Evelyne!” he called, excusing himself from the trainer. Concern flickered in his blue eyes as he jogged toward her.
She sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, and forced a polite smile. “Mr. Stonebridge. I didn’t mean to disturb your training. Please, don’t let me interrupt. I was running, and… Well, I seem to have gotten carried away.”
He stopped a few steps from her, his grin turning roguish.
“You’re not interrupting at all. Honestly, I was looking for an excuse to stop.
My trainer’s been trying to kill me with drills all morning.
” His gaze swept over her. “But it seems I’m not the only one who’s been put through their paces today. ”
Evelyne stiffened, glancing down at her mud-speckled shoes and sweat-dampened clothes. “Are you suggesting I look a mess?”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied smoothly, his voice laced with mock sincerity. “You look… determined. Like a warrior fresh from battle. Quite inspiring, really. Though I admit, I’ve never seen a southern lady dressed in men’s riding breeches before.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. “They’re my brother’s, and you’re insufferable.”
“But I’m also kind,” he quipped, offering her his arm. “Come inside for some water or tea. You’ve earned it.”
She hesitated, acutely aware of her rumpled state. “I wouldn’t want to impose—”
“Nonsense,” he cut her off. “You’d be doing me a favor. My trainer will have no choice but to let me rest a little longer.”
Relenting, Evelyne took his arm, trying to maintain her composure despite her exhaustion. “Fine. But if this is just an excuse to skip your drills, I’m telling your trainer.”
Alaric smirked as he guided her toward the house. “You think that scares me? I’ve survived worse.”
***
Evelyne’s gaze drifted over the drawing room as she sipped her tea, the warmth grounding her amid her unsettled thoughts.
The space was refined yet inviting, with towering bookshelves filled with old tomes and volumes.
Near the tall windows stood a harp, its golden strings catching the soft afternoon light as if longing for a touch to awaken its silent melody.
Her attention settled on a framed portrait above the fireplace: Alaric as a boy, standing stiffly between his father and her own. Gaviel Stonebridge smiled proudly while her father’s hand rested firmly on young Alaric’s shoulder, expressing quiet approval.
Alaric followed her stare. “That was the year your father first invited me to the winter festival,” he said faintly. “I remember being terrified of him. He had this way of looking at you like he could hear every thought in your head.”
Evelyne huffed a laugh. “He still does. I know that look all too well.”
“He’s always been fair, even when it wasn’t easy.
” Alaric leaned back, his voice turning thoughtful.
“You know, my grandfather once told me the Duskwoods were different from most noble families. He said they lead not just with power, but with purpose. And that their strength comes from how fiercely they support each other, going back generations. That’s why our families tied their fortunes together—to be each other’s backbone if the world ever turned uncertain. ”
Evelyne set her cup down, studying him. “And your father? Does he believe that too?”
Alaric’s expression softened. “He does. He’s always said that wealth and influence mean little without integrity.
It’s what sets the Stonebridge name apart, even among merchants.
My father takes great pride in knowing our success never came at the cost of our principles.
Your family recognized that then, and still does, which is why this alliance has lasted for generations. ”
Evelyne tilted her head, considering. “And you? Do you feel the weight of carrying that legacy and alliance?”
Alaric traced the rim of his cup. “Every day. But I also see it as a privilege. The trust between our families wasn’t built overnight. It’s my job to protect it… and it certainly helps having you as a friend.”
Evelyne smiled, letting his words settle over her. He knew nothing of the chaos from last night, yet his steady presence brought an unexpected comfort.
“I suppose it’s reassuring,” she murmured, “knowing I’m not the only one trying to navigate expectations. It’s nice to be reminded I’m not entirely alone in this.”
Alaric studied her for a long moment. “That’s the thing about alliances, Evelyne. Whether between families or friends. They remind us that we’re never as alone as we think.”
She glanced at him. “Comforting, yes… yet even surrounded, loneliness can press upon one’s heart more than it should.”
“Would you care to share what’s on your mind?”
His gaze held such warmth that she nearly relented. But instead, she offered a slight shake of her head, and he understood.
“Well, should you ever wish to, you know where to find me.” He winked, drawing a smile from her as she took the final sip of her tea.
An easy stillness settled between them, punctuated only by the delicate chime of porcelain and the faint whisper of the wind against the windowpane.
Eventually, Evelyne rose to her feet, brushing her hands over the fabric of her tunic—her brother’s, to be exact.
“I should return before anyone decides to send a search party. Thank you for the tea… and the perspective.”
Alaric inclined his head. “Anytime, my lady.”
With a final glance at the portrait above the fireplace, she turned and made her way toward the door.
Alaric rose as well, his brows knitting slightly. “You’re not running back, are you?”
She grinned. “It’s quicker, and I need to clear my head.”
He sighed. “At least let me walk you to the edge of the estate. That way, I can say I tried to be honorable.” His flirtatious smile returned, and Evelyne rolled her eyes at the abrupt shift in his demeanor.
But she couldn’t deny that his relentless habit of making every woman feel noticed was oddly endearing.
“Fair enough,” she replied.
The sun was high as they walked down the gravel path. When they reached the estate’s edge, Alaric stopped and spoke low. “Try not to cause any scandals on your way back, Lady Evelyne.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Stonebridge.”
With that, she took off down the path, her heart lighter than it had been in days.
***
Evelyne hesitated outside Cillian’s room, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob. The faint murmur of movement from within reassured her that he was awake, but she couldn’t shake the tension in her chest. She took a steadying breath, turned the knob, and stepped inside.
He was propped up against a mound of pillows, his soft brown hair ruffled, a faint shadow of exhaustion lingering in his eyes. Despite his weariness, he managed a small smile when he saw her.
“You look like you could use a nap more than I could,” he teased, his voice raspy.
Evelyne sighed dramatically but smiled back, taking the chair by his bedside. “It’s been a long day. How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “Better.”
Her heart ached as she saw his effort to hide his pain.
His forced smile and trembling hands made his true feelings evident, and her vision blurred as tears welled up.
She blinked them back rapidly, clenching her jaw desperately to maintain her composure.
Every fiber of her being ached to reach out and embrace him.
But she held back, her hands shaking slightly in her lap as she fought against the overwhelming urge.
She took a deep breath and swallowed, her mind racing with questions. What had happened? Why was he suffering? Most importantly, how could she help?
She leaned forward. “Cillian. What happened?”
His mouth opened, a response half formed, but then his jaw clenched and silence won. The hesitation in his eyes was a language Evelyne knew all too well. She didn’t push him; she never would.
“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “When you’re ready.”
She settled back in her chair. The silence stretched between them, but Evelyne, feeling the need to lighten the mood, let out a quiet laugh.
“You know, if you think you’re having a rough time, wait until you hear this… Lord Bavrick has officially requested my hand in marriage.”
Cillian blinked at her, then burst into laughter. “Lord Bavrick? Ivan? The one who snores through meetings and has a laugh like a dying donkey?”
“That’s the one.” She paused. “Mother is considering it.”
Cillian’s laughter faded, replaced by a worried furrow of his brow. “And what do you think about it?”
She waved dismissively as though the matter were as trivial as spilled tea. “Does it matter what I think?” She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to charm my way into every eligible man’s heart during these unbearable social gatherings. I’m sure they’ll all be lining up to court me soon.”
Cillian’s eyes lingered on her like he was trying to read between the lines of her humor. “Evelyne, what are you really going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “As you see, I am no adept at flirtation or idle games. Likely I shall be left with little more than the donkey for a husband.”
Evelyne stood and wandered over to the bookshelf, letting her fingers skim the titles before pulling two at random.
“Here,” she said with a grin, dropping one into Cillian’s lap. “Let’s disappear into a story for a bit. This world’s being terribly uncooperative.”
Cillian caught the book and smiled as she dragged her chair closer and sat beside him.
They read together in silence, broken only by the turning of pages.
As the afternoon light faded, Evelyne felt Cillian’s hand squeeze hers.
He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. In that quiet moment, she knew they would face whatever came next together.
A gentle knock sounded on the door and their mother stepped inside. Her rich gown whispered as she moved across the room, her eyes softening as they landed on Cillian. “I see you’re awake. How are you feeling, my dear?”
Cillian sat up a little straighter, his demeanor shifting as he attempted to downplay his condition. “Better, Mother. I don’t think the healers need to come back. I’m fine.”
Celeste gave him a look that brooked no argument.
“Nonsense. The healers will return in the morning with additional remedies. I won’t take chances with your health, especially now.
” She adjusted the covers at the foot of his bed before adding, almost as an afterthought, “Particularly at a time like this.”
Evelyne’s eyebrows lifted at the implication, and she couldn’t resist interjecting. “A time like this? You mean courting season, don’t you, Mother?”
“One must always consider appearances, Evelyne. You know that as well as I do.” Her eyes flickered over Evelyne’s attire, the remnants of her earlier run unmistakable. With a quiet sigh, she shook her head.
Evelyne bristled, her protective nature flaring. “Perhaps Cillian should be allowed to make his own choices.”
Her mother pressed her lips together tightly but said nothing to refute Evelyne’s words. Instead, she straightened and smoothed her skirts. “Your father and I have a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Stonebridge. Do try to keep yourself occupied in the meantime, Evelyne,” she said with a dismissive edge.
Though curiosity sparked at the mention of the Stonebridges, Evelyne resisted the urge to ask. She didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing she cared. Instead, she returned her focus to Cillian, who gave her a look of quiet gratitude.
Evelyne let out a weary sigh. “I’m going to wash up and scrub away what’s left of today’s stress and frustration.” She paused before adding, “I’m here if you need me.”
“I know,” he replied.
With a faint smile, she returned her book to the shelf and went to her room, leaving him to rest.